PONDERING PEACE — Part One: Is Peace Only For Monks in Saffron Robes?

Let’s talk Peace. 

So many questions arise the moment we say the word.

Why does Peace feel so elusive in America? 

Why does it seem to belong to monks in saffron robes in India…  and maybe a few sun‑bleached hippies in California…  but not to us? 

We say we want Peace.  We march for it.  We post about it. 

But if we’re honest, as a culture, don’t most of us secretly crave happiness more? 

Peace can feel like getting socks for Christmas —  useful, necessary, even comforting —  but we were hoping for chocolate.   Or a diamond.

 In the East, the highest honor goes to those who seek Awakening —  the ones who sit, breathe, walk, and devote their lives to Peace.  Here in the U.S., the word “woke” has somehow become an insult.

 I don’t think the issue is a lack of Heart.  Americans have always seen ourselves as generous, big‑spirited people.  We have a deep history of stepping up to help people in need. 

Maybe it’s simply a lack of cultural exposure.

 In India, monks have been meditating and walking for Peace  for thousands of years.  Their heroes include Gandhi —  a man who led a nation to freedom from British rule  not through battle,  but through stillness. 

Our own story is different. 

American Exceptionalism was built on liberty, grit, and individual rights —  the belief that if you work hard enough,  you can achieve your biggest dreams.  Our cultural heroes are innovators, athletes, billionaires.  Not quiet monks.

We grew up on Mom, baseball, and apple pie —  with a strong dose of guns, flags,  and “Don’t Tread on Me,”  echoes of our revolutionary birth. Peace rarely had a seat at the dinner table in America, unless you were very lucky. 

 Yes, the ’60s gave us a brief romance with Peace, Love, and Rock and Roll…  but once the Vietnam War ended,  the focus quickly drifted back to mostly  “love” and “rock and roll.” 

And even at its zenith, it was hard to imagine  George Washington or Benjamin Franklin  sitting cross‑legged, chanting OM —  though they did both have long hair. 

. . . But I digress.

 What I’m pointing to is this:  our culture simply isn’t fluent in Peace. 

It’s not a language we were taught.

 So I wonder, and I’ll leave you with this final question today:

Does the overwhelming support for the monks Walking for Peace  over these last four months  mean we’re finally ready to learn this deeper language?